


Worth The Wait

by RussianWitch



Series: Kinktober2018 [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Omorashi, Situational Humiliation, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Day 27 exhibitionism...sort of





	Worth The Wait

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd

The vibrations of the car shiver up through the seat into Derek's gut, making him want to squirm.

Biting his lip, he looks out of the side window concentrating on the countryside going by instead of how much he needs to piss

"Still okay?" John asks hand curling over Derek's knee to stop it from jiggling. 

Derek hadn't even realized he was doing it. 

It's not an easy question to answer.

He wants to tell John to pull over, that he can't hold it anymore—except, except he also likes the way John is looking at him, the way the look makes his body tighten up, makes sitting still and thinking hard.

"Yeah," the word turning into a gasp as John's hand strokes up towards his thigh.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," John says his hands ghosting over Derek's crotch teasingly, pressing lightly right above it and Derek whimpers. "You're doing so good for me," John adds taking his hand away, his full attention back on the road as Derek works on breathing and ignoring the throbbing of his bladder.

All he has to do is hold out until they get to the cabin.

He finds himself trying not to think of pristine porcelain, how good it will feel to just let go, the water in the bowl turning pale yellow. 

The car turns, jerking over a bump and Derek grabs for his crotch, a few drops escaping before he can squeeze down and get himself under control again, pinching the head of his dick through the denim.

John chuckles accelerating the car, making it jump on the uneven road.

By the time they stop at the house, Derek is panting wildly, both hands between his legs like a little kid, his eyes squeezed shut as he fights to keep from making a mess of the car.

He doesn't even notice John getting out and circling the car to open the door on his side.

All of a sudden there are hands on him, one stroking his chest the other rubbing the back of his neck.

"Good boy," he hears and, "so good for daddy," distracted and dizzy from keeping himself pissing his pants. Derek isn't even sure how he gets out of the seatbelt and standing next to the car swaying from one leg to the other, still holding himself with both hands, pain radiating through his body down to his toes.

"Doing so well for me," John says, crowding him against the car door and nipping at Derek's lips until he opens up for the kiss with a sob sucking desperately on John's tongue trying to ignore how John's belt buckle presses right into his straining bladder. 

"Please, please, please,—" he finds himself sobbing between kisses feeling like he's about to burst out of his skin—

"Careful with the teeth, son," John says, and Derek realizes he's lost control of the shift.

"Maybe you should wait on the porch, while I get our bags," he adds waving in the direction of the cabin. 

Getting to the porch means moving, walking, something Derek isn't sure he's capable of any longer. 

"Go!" John says tapping his hip, and Derek goes, pushes off the car and takes a step that reverberates through his whole body.

More piss escapes his dick, soaks into the denim turning it darker over Derek's crotch and thigh. Pinching the head of his dick hard to keep the rest in and keeping his steps as small as he can without stopping, Derek stumbles to the porch collapsing against the post holding up the roof.

The bathroom is probably just two doors away, but Derek doesn't have the keys to the cabin. He could break the lock—Derek glares at John who's fiddling with the bags still in the car trunk, taking his time getting them out.

He almost bites through his lip to keep from growling when the sheriff decides to check if all the car doors are locked one by one casually strolling around the car before finally grabbing the bags and carrying them over. 

By then, Derek isn't sure he'll be able to take another step without falling over or making a mess, clutching at the pillar to keep upright digging his claws into the smooth wood.

"John—," Derek gasps out part growl part plea, and only gets a raised eyebrow in return.

"Daddy—," he tries again, and John drops the bags and cups his cheek.

"Color?" John asks at once, and 'red' is on the tip of Derek's tongue, his lips itch to shape the word, but what comes out is, "Green."

He spits the word, would probably try to hit something it that didn't mean moving—John's hands close around his wrists guiding them behind his back, pinning Derek to the post.

Another too sweet kiss brings tears to Derek's eyes as John presses close pushing a thigh between Derek's legs pressing up.

"Please—," Derek sobs between kisses, tears springing to his eyes as John presses up and forward.

"You're doing so well for daddy, sweetheart," John repeats pulling Derek's head back by the hair, biting at the arched throat as he rocks against the wolf, "so patient for me."

"Daddy—," Derek pleas as the pillar creaks ominously.

 John just chuckles rubbing his way across Derek's shoulders and down his straining arms to gently circle his wrists tugging his hands away from the wood as he rocks against Derek's body.

"My good boy," he murmurs against Derek's throat, "my pup," biting down hard. Hard enough to almost bite through skin even with blunt human teeth while he grinds his thigh against Derek's crotch and—It isn't relief that he feels, not completely, because he's been holding too long and his bladder doesn't quite trust being allowed to let go. 

Piss soaks his jeans spreading wet heat all over his crotch in a slow, steady flow that spurts, almost stopping at times as Derek sobs his shame against his daddy's belly.

He should have been better, should have waited like he was, not gone like an animal out in the open where anyone could see!

He isn't sure when his legs gave out, but he's on his knees on the porch piss soaking into his crotch and thighs.  It pools in a puddle between his knees when the fabric can't absorb any more; pale yellow and shimmering in the afternoon sun.

Through it all John's big, warm hands are on him, rubbing and squeezing the back of Derek's neck, petting his hair, praising Derek for being a good boy, for doing exactly what daddy wants until he's done, feeling empty and hollow, wallowing in his own filth, curling around daddy's legs in search of comfort and guidance.

He whines when daddy pries him off, makes Derek get off his knees. 

Being stripped makes him feel better, with his knees still shaky, Derek can count on daddy keeping him upright while pulling his shirt off and getting rid of the soaks jeans cursing when Derek's boots get in the way. 

He's barely surprised that one of the bags has wet wipes in easy reach.

Once clean, daddy takes him inside where it smells of dust and sun-warmed wood instead of piss, guiding Derek to the plush looking rug in front of the empty fireplace.

"Rest here for a while, son," daddy tells him, "while I get us sorted." 

The rug is comfortable, but letting go is hard. 

Derek clings to the older man with a soft whine and John settles next to him with a put-upon sigh, opening his arms for Derek to crawl into his lap.

"Just for a little while, sweetheart," he warns, but Derek can hear daddy doesn't really mean it, not when he's been so good.


End file.
